oubled. The two aeroplanes were almost side by side as
they rushed onward. Which would win the $500 race?

It was a struggle that had begun some miles back. After leaving the lake
Peggy, who had held some speed in reserve while her opponent had keyed
her machine to its top pitch, had gradually gained on her. But still
there was a gap between the two aeroplanes.

On the return trip no car blazed the way. The speed was too great for
that. For this reason smudges, or smoky fires, had been lighted to guide
the flyers. At a place where it was necessary to make a slight turn
Peggy made the gain that brought her almost alongside her competitor. In
making the turn the monoplane flown by the Cuban aviatrix could not
negotiate it at as sharp an angle as Peggy's machine, owing to its not
being equipped with an equalizing, or stability device.

Now it was that Peggy tensioned up the _Golden Butterfly_ to its full
power. The engine fairly roared as the propeller blurred round. The
whole fabric trembled under the strain. It seemed as if nothing made by
man could stand the pressure.

But the _Golden Butterfly_ had been built by one of the foremost young
aviators in the country, and it was sound and true in every part. Peggy
felt no fear of anything giving out under the strain.

And now the aviation park appeared in the distance. Peggy headed
straight for it, hoping devoutly that her motor would not heat up
and jam under the terrific speed it was being forced to.

The Cuban woman glanced round anxiously. It was a bad move for her. Like
a flash the _Golden Butterfly_ shot by the other machine as the latter
wobbled badly.

Peggy's delight was mixed with apprehension. The motor was beginning to
smoke. Plainly it was heating up.

"Will it last five minutes longer?"

That was the thought in Peggy's mind. The _Golden Butterfly_ was hardly
an airship any longer. It was a thunderbolt--a flying arrow. Before
Peggy's eyes there was nothing now but the tall red and white "pylon"
that marked the winning post. Could she make it ahead of her rival?
Close behind her she could hear the roar of the other motor, but she
did not dare to look round for fear of losing ground.

Swiftly she mentally selected the spot where she would land, and then
down shot the _Golden Butterfly_ like a pouncing fish hawk. The speed of
the descent fairly took Peggy's breath away. Her cap had come off and
her golden hair streamed out in the breeze wildly.

There